


the lion and the lamb

by LadyMerlin



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Angst and Feels, Aomine Daiki Being an Idiot, Aomine Daiki gets his Head out of his Ass (Eventually), Casual Sex, Childhood Friends, Denial Isn't Just A River, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Fluff, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Male-Female Friendship, Momoi Satsuki is Long Suffering, Momoi Satsuki/OMC (temporary), Pining, Temporarily Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-30
Updated: 2018-01-01
Packaged: 2019-02-23 23:20:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13200720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyMerlin/pseuds/LadyMerlin
Summary: Momoi doesn’t know how she gets herself into these situations; she really wonders sometimes.It’s not that she’s not enjoying herself, what with Aomine’s long fingers twisting knuckle deep inside her and his hot mouth on her nipple and his teeth,god.It’s just that there’s no way this is going to have a happy ending, and if she’s got her facts right (which she always does), the only person who’s going to get hurt is her.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I love that "Aomine Daiki Being An Idiot" is an official tag, because that's pretty much what this story is about. 
> 
> Notes to reader: this fic involves casual sex between friends which is totally consensual, but which means more to one party than it (apparently) does to the other. Momoi does some things which she's not proud of, and Aomine is clueless. If this scenario may squick you, please look away. 
> 
> Nonetheless, I promise you; there's a happy ending.
> 
> Not Beta'd. The second chapter is almost entirely written, so to be updated soon.

Momoi doesn’t know how she gets herself into these situations; she really wonders sometimes.

It’s not that she’s not enjoying herself, what with Aomine’s long fingers twisting knuckle deep inside her and his hot mouth on her nipple and his teeth _, god_.

It’s just that there’s no way this is going to have a happy ending, and if she’s got her facts right (which she always does), the only person who’s going to get hurt is her.

Aomine wouldn’t hurt her deliberately of course, not physically anyway, but he’s certainly not going to die of a broken heart if Momoi decides to date and sleep with other people. In comparison, it still bothers her that she has to insist on condoms because she knows Aomine couldn’t keep it in his pants if his life depended on it, and _she_ certainly doesn’t have enough waking hours in the day to satisfy his voracious sexual appetite on her own. There must be other women involved, and she’d be lying if she said it didn’t get under her skin.

She’d call him a man-whore, but he’d probably take it as a compliment.

She tells herself she doesn’t care, and carefully doesn’t look at other pretty girls in class because she doesn’t want to see them in her minds’ eye, having sex with Aomine.

-

There aren’t many benefits to sleeping with athletes.

As a rule they’re self-absorbed and egotistical, and that’s what an average person would be able to see. For an observational savant like Momoi, it’s much worse. She knows that no matter how good she is in bed, they’ll always be fantasizing about sleeping with themselves.

It’s no good for the ego, even though Momoi knows objectively that plenty of men would sacrifice their own testicles for a chance to sleep with her.

There’s really no reason why she should keep doing it, especially since Aomine has all the personality of a warm turd, except. Well.

Except for the fact that Aomine is very good at sex. Very _very_ good at sex.

His body is the peak of human performance, all sleek lines and strong muscles and just relentless reserves of energy, really, he fucks like a machine.

Momoi _isn’t_ in love with him. No, really, she isn’t.

She’d be stupid to fall in love with a man who is so clearly in love with himself, and no one can honestly call Momoi stupid.

 _No good will ever come of it_ , she tells herself every day as she seeks him out in empty locker rooms. _Best if it doesn’t happen again_ , she reminds herself, as he’s mouthing at her neck. _Next time she won’t give in_ , she thinks when he’s pulling down her panties.

It’s more than a little difficult though, to not love the way he fucks her, with all of his attention and focus, the way he only ever is when he’s playing basketball.

There’s a difference, she tells herself, between loving him and loving the way he fucks.

There has to be.

-

Momoi and Aomine have been friends for a very long time, since they were little kids and she lived in the flat below his in a rickety old building on the outskirts of Tokyo. Neither of them grew up very wealthy. She met him for the first time when her mother complained to his mother about the racket he made by dribbling the basketball indoors, thin floors doing nothing to insulate the racket he made. 

She knows him better than he knows himself, including the weird corners of his mind which even _he_ doesn’t understand, brimming with loneliness and dissatisfaction. She knows everything about him, and it’s not just because of her information gathering skills. It’s because she met him when he was young and formless, all blue eyes and passion and charm, and then she never looked away, not even when he turned into a monster.

Sometimes she wishes he’d just quit basketball and be done with it, but that’s a horrible thing to wish on someone like Aomine, who has nothing else, so she doesn’t articulate it. He knows, though, that she hates who he’s become. It’s just that she loves him more.

She won’t deny that she loves him; she’s just not _in love_ with him.

-

Aomine is not a nice guy; neither of them are under any delusions. He’s not a nice guy, but he is consistent.

Aomine doesn’t like people touching his things. Aomine doesn’t like to share. Aomine is greedy and possessive and jealous and _aggressive_ , and sometimes he scares her, because it feels like he’s going to devour her until there’s nothing left.

He always backs away, though, when he realises he’s scaring her, and that counts for something, surely.

Aomine never looks down her shirt, and god knows she understands the temptation – her breasts are magnificent. Most men and a large number of women wouldn’t have been able to resist the urge to peek, at least once. Even Akashi-kun looked once, though in his defence he never looked again.

Tetsu-kun is and has always been an exception, but that’s because he’s about as sexual as a snail.

Aomine does look up her skirt though, and never fails to make a comment about her underwear. Somehow, that’s more about teasing her than about sex. She has no doubt he’d make lewd comments about his own mother, if he wasn’t so scared of her (Okā-san is truly a force to be reckoned with).

She’d been shocked the first time he’d lifted her skirt up with a single finger in full view of the entire Teiko basketball team, but not so shocked that she hadn’t slapped him bloody. Not that it did anything to stop him from doing it again; Aomine has always been a slow learner.

She doesn’t like to admit it, but he’s the sole reason she starts wearing lace in increasingly eye-catching colours, the reason her skirt lines inch higher and higher up her thighs until she’s flashing her underwear at all and sundry every time she bends down even a little bit.

Even knowing that what’s between them means nothing to him, she can’t help but show off, just a little bit, in colours and fabrics that make her look full and juicy, ripe for the taking.

It’s probably a combination of these factors that leads to them in a mostly-empty locker room with Aomine balls deep inside her, two fingers in her mouth, and her ruined panties lying on the ground.

Her long pink hair is draped over one shoulder, exposing the back of her neck to his ministrations. Her forearms are pressed against the cool steel of a locker, bracing her against his thrusts. His hands are bruising her bare hips, her skirt is rucked up around her waist, and she can feel his heat against her skin, sweat slick and overwhelming.

His mouth latches onto her neck – there goes her bikini line – and sucks a deep bruise into her skin, where even her uniform collar won’t hide it. It hardly matters.

There’s a kouhai hiding behind a locker somewhere, who’d not escaped when Aomine had manhandled her into the room. The gossip will be all over school in hours if it’s not being live-tweeted as it happens. Aomine knows it too, but it just makes him fuck her even harder, making her moan around his fingers shamelessly.

Neither of their reputations will suffer for this.

Aomine will be praised for “landing” her, and Momoi is a prized catch. She’ll be praised and reviled all at once, for sleeping with the most notorious alpha male in the school. The double-standards make revulsion fizzle in her belly even as sparks of pleasure roar up and down her spine. He’s so deep inside her that she can feel his thighs against her own, dark against light. They look good together, but that’s one of those things she’s not allowed to think about, because she’s not in love with him. She’s _not_.

When he’s done Aomine cleans her up, broad strokes of his tongue cleaning up the mess between her thighs until her knees threaten to give way. He growls with pride, holds her steady, and snags her orgasm-sensitive folds between his teeth, making her squeak.

She doesn’t mistake it for gentlemanliness. Aomine is not a gentleman. He’s an animal wearing human skin; a lion pretending to be a house-cat, likely to eat her alive at any time and without notice.

She pretends to not notice when he pockets the scraps of her ruined panties.

Let him keep his trophies. This can’t happen again.

-

It’s a poorly kept secret that Aomine spent a good part of his teenage years in love with Kuroko, but that’s okay; so did she. Both of them knew, even then, that Kuroko wasn’t like them, that he was softer, warmer, infinitely more precious. They’d have killed each other fighting over him, and Momoi knows a lost cause when she sees it.

She’ll stick with Aomine, who’ll never hold her hand or help her up when she’s down like Kuroko does, but who is predictable and reliable in his crappiness.

He can’t be relied on to come to practice, but he can be relied on to be found sleeping on the roof. He can’t be relied on to give a damn if she’s crying, but he can be relied on to play basketball well, when he wants to, and to make snarky comments about Seirin’s new ace. He can’t be relied on to help Momoi with her problems, but he can be relied on to climb through her bedroom window on Friday nights and to fuck her until they can’t think of anything else and her problems don’t matter anymore, until their brains are melting out of their respective ears.

It’s enough, she tells herself. It’s enough, she lies.

Luckily – or not – her parents still see him as the six year old boy who used to follow Momoi around town and threaten to beat up bullies if they tried to hurt her. They never object when they find him sleeping on her floor on Saturday mornings, when he’s too lazy to go home. In school, they gossip about how modern her parents must be to allow it, but never when she or Aomine are within hearing distance.

She’s not sure when he became the bully. She’s not sure when she became that girl.

-

Aomine is shameless.

He takes what he wants from her, and rarely cares if anyone sees. The only exceptions are their parents and perhaps Akashi-kun, because _there’s_ a bizarre relationship she wishes she didn’t understand.

Their encounters generally take place in or around school, except for Friday nights when her parents go out to play bridge with their friends. More often than not, they meet up in empty classrooms or locker rooms. She never instigates it. She’s not _not_ in love with him, but she doesn’t hate herself that much. It’s always Aomine pressing her up against surfaces in empty rooms and starting stuff.

Even in that, he’s consistent.

Aomine likes to hitch her leg up around him and then slide his hand up her thigh until his fingers go past her skirt line. That’s when she usually makes a token protest, usually to no avail. He’s always got her pinned in place so he can put his hand further up, rub the tips of his fingers and then his knuckles against the wet patch in between her legs, all the while licking her mouth open until all her breath leaves her lungs in a gasp.

Her orgasms are always blinding, all the more surprising for something so effortless – he doesn’t even have to move more than his fingers and his tongue and it’s enough to leave her quivering and pressed against a locker door, handle digging into the small of her back.

If she’s lucky, he’ll sneak out after that, leaving the locker room stinking like sex, her sweat damp and shaking. If she’s not, he’ll sink to his knees in front of her and make her cry.

She’s never quite sure if they’re tears of pleasure or something else.

-

The less said about their first time, the better.

She’d had no idea what she was doing, and Aomine had clearly only been with women (or men?) more experienced than himself, so he’d never particularly had to care about his partners’ pleasure.

She’d been terrified and it had hurt and it was honestly surprising that the whole experience hadn’t turned her off sex forever. But the next time Aomine approached her, she’d not even considered turning him down. He was just like that; overwhelmingly charismatic and persuasive, not that he’d ever had to try that hard with her.

Aomine had been her first.

Her first and best _everything_. Her first friend, her first kiss, her first love.

Who else could it have been?

-

“Aomine, no,” she says, the words sticking in her throat on the way out. He pays no heed, mouthing wetly at the soft skin behind her ear. A shiver runs down her spine, but she knows with a bone-deep certainty this has to stop. “Daiki, please,” she says, softly.

He stops.

They don’t use each others’ first names. That’s not the sort of relationship they have.

He doesn’t ask what’s wrong. Either he already knows, or he doesn’t give a damn. He draws his hands away and takes a small step back to let Momoi pat her skirt back into place, to button up her shirt again like he hasn’t seen what’s beneath it a hundred times. She doesn’t make eye contact until she’s done so he can’t see the tears in her eyes.

It’s the first time she’s ever dressed herself in front of him, and that means something, even if she’s not sure what.

There’s a deep soft ache in her chest and tears are running down her cheeks without her permission, and she knows it’s happening; this is the heartbreak she’d always seen coming. It’s finally here, and nothing’s going to be the same ever again.

She leaves Aomine standing there, and doesn’t look back.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year y'all! Here's hoping that this year is less of a shit-show than the last one...
> 
> (tags have been updated)

She avoids him completely.

It’s a strange state of affairs, because for so many years, Momoi could be found wherever Aomine was and vice-versa.

The first time Coach asks her where Aomine is and she shrugs her shoulders, she can feel the entire team turn and stare. She ignores them and does her job as best she can when half her heart is missing from her chest. Coach must be more astute than he looks, because he doesn’t ask again.

She expects to hear about his next conquest, but it never happens. That’s strange too, because she doesn’t think Aomine has gone without sex for more than a single week in recent years. Maybe he’s sleeping with a girl from another school, which wouldn’t surprise her, but she makes a concerted effort to not think about it.

It’s not her business. She’s made that much clear.

-

It goes without saying that Momoi doesn’t have many female friends in school. It’s a combination of her own above-average looks and the fact that she hangs out and regularly sleeps with the hottest guy in the school.

Or at least, she used to.

Now that something’s clearly gone wrong there, the majority of the female populace takes the opportunity to shun her completely. It’s nothing she hadn’t expected.

It also goes without saying that Momoi didn’t have many male friends either, because most of them just want to sleep with her and she just isn’t interested. When it becomes obvious that Aomine’s not sleeping with her anymore, a bunch of guys offer to take his place but _that’s_ never going to happen, so Momoi turns them all down as politely as she can.

She’d never needed much companionship. She could keep herself occupied and Aomine was a full-time occupation in himself. She’d just never realised how lonely it could be when she had absolutely no-one. For all his flaws, Aomine had never truly abandoned her.

She doesn’t have to explain herself to Kuroko when she knocks on his front door. He takes one look at her and invites her into his stupidly-large, achingly-empty home, makes her endless cups of tea, and stuffs her with her favourite biscuits.

She wishes she could have loved him instead. Even if he hadn’t loved her back, he wouldn’t have hurt her like this. But then again, maybe that’s why she didn’t love Kuroko. She wants a wild love and passion, and Kuroko was all the comforts of home and family. It wouldn’t have worked between them.

Then again, it hadn’t worked between Aomine and herself either, even though he was as wild and passionate as she’d wanted. She’d seen it coming, and she’d still fallen for him.

Kuroko had seen it coming too, but he doesn’t admonish her, doesn’t tell her that she should have known better. He also doesn’t tell her that she can do better, that there are plenty of other fish in the sea, because it would be a lie. There is no one for her like Aomine.

Kuroko lets her sleep in his bed even though there are a dozen empty guest rooms, and when she wakes up, Kise is pressed to her other side like a warm, drooling limpet. She’s so grateful for the company that she could cry.

-

Word must get out on the grapevine, because the next day Midorima visits her in school to give her a good luck charm, and the day after Kise whirls her away for lunch. It certainly helps her social status to have a famous model asking after her and then kissing both her cheeks, and Momoi considers asking Kise to fake a relationship with her.

It might have worked for both of them, if Kise wasn’t gayer than a tree full of monkeys on nitrous oxide.

She keeps busy with basketball and homework and Kise, Kuroko and occasionally Midorima. Mukkun sends her food-packages and Akashi comes to Tokyo to take her out for dinner and a movie one night, and that’s nice too. She doesn’t think about how this feels an awful lot like a break up. She and Aomine were never together, and they never will be. She doesn’t need this sympathy, but she appreciates it all the same.

-

She _briefly_ considers dating someone, just to get her mind off Aomine. Maybe he’ll even notice that she’s – no.

The idea is quickly discarded.

The thought of using someone else the way she’s been used makes her stomach turn.

-

Things don’t get better, but she gets used to it. She’s always been made of strong stuff.

Aomine tries to reach out to her once. Just once. He doesn’t do it well, and Momoi almost forgives him for the fumble, but she’s made up her mind. She can’t do this anymore, this cycle of loving him and getting hurt, not when her heart hasn’t yet healed from the last round. Aomine is like an addiction. She needs to quit him completely before things can get better.

He turns up outside the gym one day when Momoi is locking up, and without a word kisses her. When he puts a hand at the small of her back and bends down to press his lips to hers, sweet and soft, she can feel her knees shake and her resolve grow weak. She toys with the thought of giving in, but there’s something - something strange about it...

And then she remembers that he’s never kissed her like this before. He’s had free reign and access to her body for years now, and not once has he kissed her for the sake of kissing her, outside the context of sex. Not once has she asked.

This kiss is everything she’s ever wanted and at the same time, nothing like it.

She doesn’t kiss him back, she can’t. When he realises she’s not responding, he pulls away. She doesn’t know what she looks like, doesn’t know what he sees on her face when her eyes are closed and she’s trembling like a leaf in the wind.

“Satsuki,” he tries, and tears spill from her eyes before she can stop them. He’s never called her by her name before, and for some reason it’s like an open wound. She never thought something so perfect could hurt so much.

She shakes her head and steps back. “Thank Kuroko for me,” she says, because only one person could have coached Aomine like this, “but this isn’t what I want.” Not when it’s not genuine.

He doesn’t try again, and she’s grateful for it. She’s only human. She can only take so much.

-

The next time a cute boy asks her out, she accepts. He’s so stunned that he trips over his own feet and lands in a sprawl on the ground in front of her. When she helps him up, he looks like he’s been hit in the head with a brick. It’s a little cute, she thinks. He’s nothing like Aomine, but maybe that’s a good thing.

She decides to be upfront about it. “I’ve never really dated anyone,” she confesses when they go out for dinner. He continues looking stunned and it’s really surprisingly cute when he blinks his long lashes over his dark blue eyes. Maybe this won’t be terrible.

“But, why?” He asks, sounding dumbstruck. “You’re so smart and funny,” he continues, instantly winning brownie points by not mentioning her face or her figure.

“I’ve been in love with someone for the longest time,” she confesses, and it’s humiliating how he looks a little understanding, too knowing for comfort.

“Aomine-san, right?” He asks, and he’s braver than she gave him credit for. Not many people can admit, even to themselves, that they’re competing with Aomine Daiki.

She nods but can’t make eye contact. It’s humiliating.

“Momoi-san, really, it’s ok. Are you trying to move on?” He asks, gently. His fingers graze hers on the table, and maybe it’s a little forward, but he’s making perfect eye contact and she doesn’t read anything inappropriate in his gaze. He looks like he’s just trying to comfort her, even though it’s really not his job to care.

She nods again. “That’s good enough for me,” he replies, smiling. He’s got a little snaggletooth in the corner of his smile and it should ruin his features, but it doesn’t. “Not to presume anything, of course, but even if nothing comes of this I think you’re very nice, and I don’t mind spending time with you. As long as you’re not doing this to make him jealous, I’m fine with just trying, even if it doesn’t work in the end.”

Momoi thinks she could cry. She doesn’t remember the last time someone other than Kuroko had been so understanding.

“There would be no point in playing that game, Jin-san, he’s just not interested in me like that. He’d never be jealous of you, because he doesn’t want me.”

Jin Yuu, whose name is shockingly apt, looks sceptical, but seems to realise that they’re discussing something too heavy for a first date, and doesn’t say anything else on it.

It’s... nice. Momoi has spent so much time with the super intense Generation of Idiots that she’s almost forgotten what it’s like to hang out with normal people.

Jin is relaxed. He’s relaxing to be around. He’s not unintelligent but he’s not a savant either. He’s competitive in terms of academics (everyone is, nowadays) and plays tennis with his friends on Saturday mornings, but his true passion lies in poetry, which is hardly a competitive sport.

It’s nice to not have to worry about his moods, because he’s generally genial and warm and overall pleasant to be around.

He’s a perfect gentleman, walking her to her front door when she goes home and picking her up from her front gate in the mornings. She’s lived two houses from Aomine for almost her entire life and he’s not waited for her to go to school a single time.

She wishes she could fall in love with Jin instead.

Jin introduces her to his friends, both in school and outside, and they’re all really nice people. She actually enjoys spending time with them, because they come into it with no expectations. They’re just meeting their friends’ girlfriend, and they don’t care about her background or her past, all they want to do is make sure she’s good for Jin.

And she thinks she is. She thinks they’re good for each other.

She spent the longest time waiting for the other shoe to drop, waiting for something monstrous to be revealed about Jin that will prove to her once and for all that men are a waste of time, but it doesn’t happen, and finally she begins to relax into the relationship.

She’s not an idiot. If she can’t be with the love of her life, Jin is the second best alternative. She’s already growing to love him, even if she might not be in love with him; doesn’t think she can be. When she’s invited to her cousin’s wedding a month-and-a-half later, she doesn’t even think twice before inviting Jin as her plus-one.

Jin writes poetry on post-it notes and leaves them in her bag for her to find when she gets home. She hasn’t seen Aomine in weeks. She’s surviving.

-

She’s actually doing really well when the wedding comes around. She’s happier than she’s been in weeks, and she hasn’t had sex in _months_. Jin hasn’t asked her for it a single time, and they haven’t done anything more than cuddle since they first got together. Sometimes he spoons her on his couch while they watch T.V. together, and it’s just really nice when she can feel his heart beating against her back and his warm hands resting respectfully on her waist.

She doesn’t think Aomine ever spent any time with her outside of sex and basketball.

The problem only occurs when she and Jin reach the garden where her cousin is hosting the wedding. The problem is that she and Aomine have been friends for so damn long that he’s a part of the extended family, and accordingly, has received an invitation too. 

She hadn’t expected him to attend, because it was hard enough to make him attend his own beloved basketball practice let alone the wedding of someone else’s _cousin_ , but the stars must have been in the perfect alignment, because he’s there, dressed in a nice-ish yukata, ostensibly waiting for her.

She swears and turns to Jin. “I’m so sorry, Jin-san, I’m so sorry, I didn’t know he was coming, I didn’t even know he was invited, I’m so—”

Jin has the softest little smile on his face when his fingers tangle with hers and squeeze. “It’s ok, Momoi-san, I trust you. This is not your fault. Do you want to go meet him?” he asks, and Momoi doesn’t understand the question. Her incomprehension must show on her face because he elaborates. “Without me, I mean.”

“No!” she says, almost a little too loud. “No,” she repeats, “what do you take me for? You’ve given me more joy and happiness in the past few months than he has in a very long time. I’m not about to abandon you. I’m sorry because you’re coming with me, and you’re going to have to deal with his nonsense for the next couple of hours.”

Jin-san is a little taller than her, but nowhere nearly as tall as Aomine. His shoulders are broader than hers, but next to Aomine he looks like a younger child. He’s conventionally attractive, but not striking, the way Aomine is. He sets his shoulders and offers his arm for her to hold, and it’s just the right height. His forearm is warm through his own dark blue yukata. It’s patterned with little white stars and it suits his blue eyes. “Together, then, Momoi-san?”

“Into the breach,” she replies, and they go.

-

Momoi introduces Jin as her boyfriend with absolutely no hesitation. She doesn’t think her voice cracks when she introduces Aomine as her oldest friend, but it must be a close thing because Aomine goes ashen under his swarthy complexion.

Because the universe does not have any mercy, her cousin has arranged for them to sit at the same table. They have to drag in an extra chair from somewhere, because apparently Aomine RSVP-ed and she RSVP-ed with a plus one and her cousin had just assumed that they were one and the same.

It’s fine. It’s okay. It’s awkward but it could be worse. Aomine appears to be on his very best behaviour, sits politely beside Momoi and listens to Jin talk about a book he’d read recently. Momoi has read it too, and they debate a little bit on what motivates one of the characters, and Aomine doesn’t interrupt once. It’s a little surprising. Aomine would have interrupted the best man’s speech at his own wedding.

It’s the calm before the storm, because once the ordeal is over and Jin has walked her home and kissed her at her front door and she’s shed her fancy wedding clothes, there’s a knock at the front door, and it’s not her parents. Her parents are travelling and won’t be home for weeks. She’s not even surprised to find Aomine, darkening her doorstep.

He wouldn’t have been able to let this go, she should have known.

She lets him in.

“Won’t your boyfriend be worried?” he asks, and she turns to glare. He seems to realise that he’s overstepped, because he raises his hand and ducks his gaze. It’s as close to an apology as she’ll get, so she turns away.

“He trusts me,” she replies and doesn’t watch Aomine flinch, though she knows he does.

He follows her silently into her kitchen. Her house is as familiar to him as his own. “Aunty and Uncle travelling, again?” he asks. It’s a little endearing that he still calls her parents Aunty and Uncle, like he’s a five-year-old kid. Momoi pulls out a canister of his favourite tea, almost on auto-pilot.  

“What happened, Satsuki?” he asks, when the tea is made and they’ve run out of inane conversational topics.

She resists the urge to demand that he not call her that. “I don’t know, Daiki, I just got tired of being sad and hurt.”

She’s not sure whether her words affect him more or whether it’s the use of his given name. Somehow, it doesn’t make her feel any better to hurt him.

“I guess I deserved that,” he admits, and that’s one thing she can respect about him; that he’s rarely afraid to own up to his own messes. Though usually, he takes pride in them. “I think what I meant was; what happened to us? I thought we were really good together.”

His words hurt her more than she expected. She thought she was moving on. “There was no we, Aomine. I was in love with you and that was it, there was no we and we were never together.”

Somewhere behind her – because she’s turned away to avoid looking at him – Aomine drops his mug. It’s literally got his name on it and it’s lived in her kitchen cupboard alongside her own mug and her parents’ mugs for years. The mug is empty, a small, silly part of her mind pipes, and it lands with a thunk on the carpeted ground – it doesn’t break. It hardly matters.

“Love?” he asks, and his voice is smaller than she’s ever heard it. Her entire life with Aomine was a study of superlatives – he’s her best, her most, her first, her only. She never thought it would reach this.

She finds a line of steel in her backbone and turns to him. This is going to be ugly, but it has to be done. “You knew I was in love with you Aomine, I couldn’t say no to you.”

“Love?” he asks again, and he’s gone pale and shaky. She wants to comfort him, some old childhood instinct buried under all of this adult nonsense, but she can’t bring herself to go close to him, to touch what was once so familiar. “You were in _love_ with me?” he asks, like a broken record.

“Yes, Aomine,” and she can’t keep the exasperation from her voice. “I was in _love_ with you, and you knew it.”

“I didn’t,” he denies. “I didn’t know, I swear.” They both know that it was the wrong thing to say, the moment the words leave his mouth.

“A blind man would have known. Why else would I have —” she starts, and then cuts herself off with a deep breath. That’s not right.

“No, none of this is your fault, Aomine, I should have put my foot down ages ago. I’m the one to blame. There’s nothing to be done if I love you and you – well. If you don’t, that’s not your problem, it’s mine. I know that. But I couldn’t do it anymore.” The words are spilling from her mouth faster than she can think, like they’re overflowing from some deep well inside her.

Aomine looks _stunned_. She’s never seen him look so shocked before in her life, like he’s hit his head on something really heavy and hard, and she doesn’t like it. She wants to rewind this entire conversation, take it back so that Aomine doesn’t know this about her, can’t use it against her in the future, even by accident.

“Momoi – Satsuki, I didn’t know. I didn’t know, I swear, I wouldn’t hurt you on purpose, you’re my—” he cuts himself off.

Satsuki finds herself possessed of some sort of morbid curiosity which makes her ask; “your what?” Because she genuinely doesn’t know; he was her best friend, the love of her life. What was she to him?

“You were my – you _are_ my – Satsuki, you’re _mine_ ,” he says, the words escaping him in a gasp. “You’re _mine_ , I need you—” and she should have known, she should have _known_ , that no one could ever hurt her as much as this man.

Her eyes brim with tears, and she thinks he’s made her cry more than anyone else has in her entire life. “Please leave,” she says, and it’s a miracle he can’t hear her heart breaking like fragile glass, with the way he’s just stomped carelessly all over it. “Please, Aomine.”

“Satsuki,” he whispers helplessly, and his own eyes look a little shiny and full, but she can’t find it in herself to really wonder why he’s upset.

When he’s gone, she calls Jin.

-

“Momoi-san,” Jin says when she picks up her phone, “I was wondering – did you know that Aomine is sitting on the sidewalk outside your house?” he sounds innocently curious, not at all accusing, and Satsuki knows that a small part of her does love this man, for being exactly what her aching heart needed.

“Shit,” she replies.

“Well, that answers that question,” he chirps, sounding all-together awake for so late at night, not drained the way she feels.

“He came to ask me why we were no longer friends, Jin-san, I swear nothing—”

“Shh, Momoi-san, of course, don’t be ridiculous. I was just wondering if you knew he was there, I never even thought you’d do that.”

She moans, long and deep, graceless in a way she rarely allows herself. He snorts and it makes her smile a little.

“Alright then, I know how to deal with this. I’ll see you soon,” he says and hangs up before she can beg him to be careful. She doesn’t know what she’d do if her best friend killed her boyfriend and ended up in jail.

All she can do is sit there and wait.

-

(Aomine really does look miserable, sitting all curled up on the curb, face pressed into his knees like he’s a little child. Jin wants to hate him, wishes he could, but he’d known when he started this thing with Momoi that it wasn’t going to be forever. He’d mostly made his peace with it, but he deserved a bit of fun.

He wasn’t a mean person, but the way Aomine jumped when Jin put a hand on his shoulder would never not be funny. The way he scrubs tears from his face and scrambles to his feet definitely isn’t funny though, and it softens something inside him.

Standing up, Aomine is more than a head taller than Jin, but he looks smaller with his shoulders hunched and his hands shoved in his pockets.

“You alright?” he asks, but he already knows the answer.

Aomine nods and doesn’t make eye contact. Jin’s estimation of the man rises a little. At least he recognises his own failings. If Jin was almost anyone else in the world, this whole thing would be a complete loss.

It’s late enough at night that there aren’t many people around to see Jin sitting down on the curb beside Aomine and inviting Aomine to sit beside him.

“She’ll never forgive me for telling you this, but she’s still in love with you,” Jin says, keeping his tone as even and gentle as he can.

Aomine reacts like he’s been jabbed with a cattle prod.

“She’s not, Jin,” Aomine says, sudden urgency brimming in his voice. “She’s really not, and I swear, she’s faithful to you. All I did was go in there to talk to her and ended up making her cry, that’s all I did, I promise.”

Jin flaps his hand and Aomine’s assurances peter away into silence. “I know, Aomine-kun, neither of you would do that. But that doesn’t mean she doesn’t still love you. I knew that when I started going out with her.”

“But then,” Aomine sputters, “why did you? Why would you?”

“Because I didn’t know Momoi then, beyond the rumours and gossip. Because people fall in and out of love all the time. Because she was single and I finally gathered up my guts to ask her out and she said yes and I was hardly going to say no, right?” Aomine is quiet and still; he’s listening, so Jin continues.

“We spoke about it before we started going out. I knew – well. Pretty much the entire school knows Momoi-san is in love with you. I knew, too. All I asked was whether she was going to give it an honest try, and whether she was using me to make you jealous. She said she didn’t play those games, and that you’d never be jealous because you didn’t care for her that way.”

“How can someone so smart be so blind?” Aomine whispers, and then looks stricken like he hadn’t meant to say it.

Jin lets a corner of his mouth twitch up. “She’d probably say the exact same thing.” Aomine remains frozen and Jin can practically hear him berating himself internally. “In any case, both of you are damn lucky I got involved, because I’m clearly smarter than the both of you.” The teasing brag hits the right note because Aomine softens, quirks a smile at him, and he is really very handsome. In a contest, Jin wouldn’t stand a chance.

They sit there in silence for a moment, under the glow of a street light. A dog barks two houses away and somewhere in the distance a child is crying. “I better get major karma points for this,” Jin says, because really, never before in the history of Japan has anyone been so self-sacrificing.

“I think the problem is that the two of you are speaking different languages.” Aomine watches him but doesn’t say anything. “She’s so in love with you that it’s killing her. She’s been in love with you for the longest time. You’re the first thing on her mind when she wakes up and the last thing she thinks about before she goes to sleep. She’s in _love_ , Aomine-kun. Do you understand me?”

Aomine nods, clenches his jaw, and doesn’t look away even though he’s clearly dying to break eye-contact. “I think for you, this realisation has been more recent, yes?”

Aomine nods again. “Probably when you found out I was going out with her?” Aomine looks reluctant, but grunts an affirmative. “Figures,” Jin snorts. “I did end up making you jealous. Okay, so you’ve got to figure out if you’re in love with her or if you’re just… used to her. If she’s the most comfortable option and that’s why you’re seeking her out, then I’m going to ask you politely to leave, but if you really love her—”

“How do you know if it’s love?” Aomine asks, and the question is bitten out, like Aomine hates himself for asking something so sappy.

Jin grins. “That’s the right-ish question to ask. It’d be nice if I could just say that you’ll know if you feel it, but it’s not that easy. Love, I think, is hard work. It means you have to keep trying, even when things aren’t easy. Even when your world is falling apart, you have to want her. I think it means being selfless. Momoi-san wants your time and your consideration. She wants you to think of her once in a while, to care about what she cares about, to want what she wants. She wants to be safe with you.”

He stops and hums. “I’ve been with her for a couple of months now, and we haven’t slept together a single time.” Aomine shudders like someone’s walking over his grave, but doesn’t say anything.

“She called me over today because she was crying and wanted comfort. She’s alone at home, no one will be home, and she knows that I would never touch her in any way unless she asked for it. That’s not to say I’m not attracted to her, of course, she’s a beautiful woman and I’m not blind, but it feels really nice that there’s no underlying tension. She doesn’t feel the need to impress me, to keep my attention, because she knows I’m not going to stray. I’m safe, you see?” Jin scratches his arm absently.

“I don’t know, Aomine. I’m hardly an expert, but that’s what I think. Maybe I’m being idealistic, but that’s what I think. Love isn’t supposed to be scary. I’d hate if I was scared of the person I loved, or if I was scared of being in love. I think it’s supposed to be the safest thing ever, like a blanket, or a net to catch you when you fall. Someone who’s got your back, and you trust them with your life.”

“She doesn’t trust me,” Aomine whispers.

Jin shakes his head. “No, I think she does. She does trust you, but she needs the distance to heal from what she thinks is unrequited love. She trusts me and Kuroko-san and Midorima-san and Kise-kun, but it doesn’t mean she’s in love with them. I think she’s trusted you with her body and her mind for almost her whole life.”

“And I broke her trust, didn’t I?” Aomine asks.

“I don’t know,” Jin shrugs. “I mean, I really don’t know. I’m sixteen, Aomine. I hardly know what I’m talking about. But she let you into her house today. She talked to you, and it might not have turned out well, but she trusted you to leave when you asked her to. And I’m guessing when you were still together, she trusted you to stop when she asked you to, right?”

Aomine nods.

“That’s trust too, right?”

Aomine doesn’t reply. “She thinks I don’t care for her the way she cared for me.”

“The way she _cares_ for you. She still does.”

“I don’t know about that, but I think they should give you a sainthood. I don’t think I’d have been able to give you this talk if I was in your place.”

Jin snorts. “I’m just waiting for an invitation to be knighted by the Emperor, honestly, I deserve major brownie points for this.”

Aomine studies him assessing. “I think you do too.”

“And because I’m so amazing, I know you’re going to offer to step aside out of respect for my prior claim to Momoi-san, right?” Jin asks. Aomine flushes and looks away.

“The only thing I can say in response to that is that it’s Momoi-san’s choice, not mine. I don’t think I’m in love with her, but I do care for her. I want her to be happy. I know I can keep her satisfied, if she’d let me, but I can’t even begin to give her the same happiness you could. I respect that. Go home, today. Let me talk to her.”

“You’d do that?” Aomine asks, incredulous.

Jin nods. “I’ll do that.”)

-

When he rings the doorbell half an hour later, there’s no one on the sidewalk and Momoi-san greets him with a warm hug, pressing her face into his chest.

He hugs her back and drops kisses into her soft pink hair. She smells like flowers and tea and warm things. She’s a little damp, presumably from a shower, and lovely.

“Can I come in?” he asks after a minute when she doesn’t let go.

She starts. “Of course, jeeze, sorry Jin-san.” She steps back and lets him in. He pulls a small box of strawberry mochi from his satchel and offers it to her, and her expression softens. It’s her favourite.

“You’re the best,” she says, tiptoeing to kiss his cheek.

Instead of waiting for her lips on his cheek, he turns his head so his lips meet Momoi’s. He drops the box of mochi on the table behind her and his satchel on the floor so he can cup her face in his hands and kiss her properly for the first time since they’ve met.

Her lips are as perfect as they look, as soft and plump as rose petals. Her skin is paper-thin and downy-soft under his fingers. Her long pale eyelashes brush his cheeks as her mouth moves against his own, deepening the kiss, lips parting to let Jin in. They’re so deep inside each other that their teeth clack, and still neither of them let up.

It’s a textbook-perfect kiss, wet and sweet and warm, and both of them are certainly breathless by the time he pulls away, and she’s trembling and clinging to him, but that’s it.

It was a very good kiss, an _excellent_ kiss, but “it’s like kissing your brother, isn’t it?” he asks, smiling a little. Momoi brings a hand to her lips, a furious blush mottles her cheeks, and she looks so frustrated and embarrassed that he can’t help but pull her into a hug again. He doesn’t let go even when he feels her tears soaking into his t-shirt. It’ll survive.

“Alright then, darling. That makes things a little easier.”

“What?” she asks. “Makes what easier?”

He pulls her onto the sofa and curls around her so that they’re face to face before saying, “Momoi-san, we need to talk.”

-

She cries, but he’s not sure if it’s tears of regret, sorrow, or relief. He’d like to think it’s not the latter but he’d never presume to ask.

“How are you so kind, Jin-san?”

“I think we’ve been through enough for you to call me Yuu,” he says, not answering the question. She’s still curled up in his lap and her face is tucked into the crook of his neck but the undercurrent of tension is gone; it’s completely platonic and they both feel better this way. Mostly.

“Then I’m Satsuki to you,” she replies, fingers curled in the hem of his t-shirt.

“Well, Satsuki, like I told Aomine, I’m waiting for my knighthood from the Emperor and possibly a halo from God himself, but it’s only the right thing to do. I could never make you as happy as Aomine could.”

Satsuki looks stricken. “I never meant to make you feel—”

“You didn’t, Satsuki. It’s just, well. It’s a little obvious.” She ducks her head, embarrassed, but doesn’t deny it.

“I think,” she says instead, “you deserve to meet someone as amazing and perfect as you are. I’m far too messed up for you.”

“I’m hardly perfect,” Jin snorts, “and anyone who says that about you needs a good kick up the pants.”

“You’ve got a heart of solid gold,” she replies and he can’t help but flush from her sincerity. “Your parents named you well.” There’s a calculating look on her face which makes him a little worried.

“Don’t worry about my love life until yours is sorted,” he chides gently. She blushes again but grins.

“Are you sure he loves me?” she asks for the third time.

“Satsuki, he’s absolutely stupid about you. He was sitting on a sidewalk crying about you at two in the morning, for gods’ sake. It’s not going to be easy, I think, but you can make it. You’ve got so much history, so much shared experience. You know him better than he knows himself, and I think he knows you too, even if he’s not as smart about it. I’ll be cheering you on, Satsuki. You should call him now.”

She agrees, and when she’s dialling Aomine’s number by heart, he picks up his bag and lets himself out. He’s only human. He’s got wounds to nurse too.

-

Aomine reaches her house so quickly that she suspects traffic laws may have been broken. Either that, or he’d just been lurking around in some 24 hour bar nearby. But he’s wearing different clothes, so she thinks he went home. He’s also wearing a red slap-mark on his cheek, which means he probably woke his mother on the way in. Serves him right.

When she opens the door, he reaches out before stopping himself. She can’t find any words to say, so she steps back and lets him into the house. It feels momentous, almost, because never before has he come through her front door with such purpose. Never before has there been this sort of charged silence between them.

“I’m sorry I hurt you, Satsuki."

“It’s okay,” she replies, but he cuts her off.

“It’s not, and you don’t have to pretend it is. I’ve been thinking about this, and I really hurt you, and nothing I say can ever express how sorry I am about that. I’m not good with these things, you know. I’m not good with words and feelings but,” and here he takes a deep breath, as if steeling himself. “I think you’re the most important person in my life. You’re my North-star. Things only make sense when you’re in the picture, otherwise I don’t know what’s up and what’s down. I kept telling you I needed you but I think I didn’t make it clear; I want you too. You’re not like a drug I’m dependent on. You’re my best friend, and the better half of my heart, and I—”

It’s almost too much, the words something straight out of Momoi’s wildest fantasies. And coming from Aomine, it’s too much to handle. She’s crying before she realises it, but not before he does, and then he’s fumbling with a handkerchief she suspects hasn’t been washed in a decade and trying to pat her face with as much grace and gentleness as he can muster, which is to say, not a lot.

She puts up with being ineffectually patted on the face by his giant hands for a few seconds before she shakes him off and scrubs the tears from her cheeks herself, with the sleeves of her cardigan. When she looks up at him, the handkerchief is crumpled up in his hand and he’s looking at her with the softest, most helpless expression she’s ever seen on his face.

“ _Dumbass_ ,” she whispers and steps within his arms reach before hurt can flicker across his face. His palms cup her elbows gently and she’s so close that he’s looking almost straight down at her. She pushes him a little bit until he drops onto the couch, but what’s amazing is that he goes where she wants him to, without her saying a single word. “How could you not know that I’ve loved you for so long?” she asks, and it’s only a little admonishing.

Once he’s sitting down and she’s standing between his parted legs, her head is a little above his, so he has to look up at her. He makes unflinching eye-contact, not looking at her ample chest between them, and she arranges his arms around her waist. His weight is familiar on her hips, and his heat sears through her ratty sleeping-shorts.

From there it’s the easiest thing in the world to cup his face with her hands and kiss him, just like that. It’s a good kiss, slow and wet and warm. It feels like coming home, especially when he finally closes his eyes and shudders into her, fingers pressing firmly into her flesh. She rewards him with a moan when he leans back against the sofa-back and pulls her even closer, drawing her into his lap and arranging her there.

She can feel his muscles through his clothes, well-defined and solid. She can feel his heart pounding in his chest, flutter visible through the thin skin of his neck. She knows his body as well as she knows her own, but here, it feels like something new.

He doesn’t break contact, keeping their lips pressed together even when they’re not kissing anymore, just enjoying the taste and the closeness of being skin-to-skin. His cheeks are stubbly but his lips are soft and Momoi remembers how she used to squeal, when he first started growing facial hair and took great pleasure in dragging it all over her cheeks.

It’s almost unbelievable how they grew up together, how they’ve known each other for most of their lives. It feels like she’s closing a door to one era, and opening the door to the next, but surprisingly, she’s not dreading it.

When he finally pulls away his lips, he doesn’t go too far; they’re still sharing the same air. “Can I call you Satsuki, please?”

“May,” she corrects absently, eyeing the line of his jaw. She’s always wanted to bite him there, but never quite dared.

He groans and drops his head against her shoulder, but doesn’t really complain. “ _May_ I call you Satsuki, then.”

“I dunno,” she replies, more casually than she feels. “May I call you Daiki?”

He shudders and she can feel it through his entire body. She wriggles a little bit in response, squirming in his lap in a way she knows drives him wild. His hands clamp tightly on her hips and hold her still even though she can hear him gritting his teeth near her neck.

“Let’s not, Satsuki.” She hums curiously, only half-listening. “Why don’t we try properly dating first, without any of this. I want to show you that I care for more than your body.”

She huffs a laugh. “Daiki, are you in this for the sex?” she asks, point blank. He startles a little and looks shocked when he pulls back so she can see his face.

“Absolutely not, Satsuki. I understand now. I may not have realised at first, but I’ve loved you for a long time, and I want to spend forever with you, _properly_ , not just for sex.” He’s sincere, and it makes her grin.

“The let me make my choice.” Aomine holds his breath like he’s awaiting judgment, because he’s a dumbass. She made this choice years ago; saying it out loud is only for his benefit. “I choose you, Pikachu,” she whispers, breaking the tension and making him sputter into a laugh.

“Oh my god,” he moans, when he’s done choking on his own saliva. “Imagine telling our kids this story, about how we got together and our first I-love-yous,” he says, still laughing a little.

“Oh Daiki, our kids are getting a highly sanitized version of events, I think,” she says, waiting for Aomine to pick up on what he’d just said. His reaction to his own verbal slip is better than she’d ever imagined; instead of backtracking and denying it, he blushes dark, fetchingly rosy around the cheeks, and presses his face into her shoulder again.

“I’m sorry for presuming,” he mumbles but Satsuki can see it too; their little family growing bit-by-bit, Aomine as a doting basketball-idiot father and all their basketball-idiot uncles. She can imagine going to bed with Aomine every night, wrapped around her like a groping octopus, and waking up every morning to his miraculous bedhead, tucked neatly under his chin and draped with his heavy limbs.

They’re building castles in the air, she knows, but she’s got a good feeling about this and her instincts are rarely wrong. It was all worth it. They’re going to be fine.

-

** Epilogue **

After leaving Satsuki’s house, Jin finds himself at a 24 hour joint called Maji-burger, which looks oddly cheerful for seven on a wintery Sunday morning. He should get home before his mother wakes up and starts worrying, but fuck it, he deserves a milkshake.

He finds a seat on the second floor near a window, so he can watch the sunrise. He’s not alone though. There’s another guy there staring at his table, and Jin somehow knows he’s not actually seeing the empty wrappers in front of his eyes.

Well, you could never have too many friends.

He slides into the seat in front of the guy and smiles. He probably looks like shit for not having slept the whole night, but this guy looks worse, maybe, well rested but hollow somehow.

“Hey, you alright? My name is Jin Yuu.”

The guy flashes him a wan smile and it’s more than he’d expected. “Kiyoshi Teppei. Not particularly, but if you don’t mind me saying, you look like you’ve had a rough night yourself.”

Jin snorts and the guy – Kiyoshi’s grin widens, becoming more real. “Well, I just helped my girlfriend get together with the love of her life, so you could say that.”

Kiyoshi shakes his head and he’s smiling but his eyes are kind and he’s thinking. “That’s a far sight worse than my night, I think. Can I get you a coffee?”

“How about I get us an order of the dubious looking pancakes on the menu to share, and you tell me about why you look so sad?”

“I don’t see what you get out of that bargain,” Kiyoshi counters, but it’s not a rejection.

“That’s for me to know and you to find out,” Jin says, as mysteriously as he can manage when he’s grinning like an idiot. It’s possible the lack of sleep has made him delirious but something about this encounter is hitting all the right notes. There’s a sort of intrigue in Kiyoshi’s eyes.

“That may have been the worst line I’ve ever heard,” Kiyoshi laughs, even as Jin is heading for the stairs.

“Ah, but was it a line?” Jin asks, waving his hands broadly, a wallet in one fist.

“I suppose that’s also for me to find out?” is the last thing he hears Kiyoshi ask before he reaches the ground floor.

Jin’s instincts have always been spot on, and he’s got a good feeling about this. He’s going to be fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I done gone fucked up guys, I fell in love with my OC. I hope the epilogue makes things better?
> 
> Concrit is always appreciated, reviews/comments make my life.

**Author's Note:**

> Aomine will eventually get his head out of his ass, I promise.
> 
> The second part is almost three times the length of this part - I'd hesitate to call them halves - but it's almost done.


End file.
